Elbow deep in a car is where Tommy finds the most peace. Cars are easy. Every part has its purpose and if it fails, it's not all that hard to find the problem and repair it. You can take them apart piece by piece, clean them up, put them back together better than you found them. He's been doing this long enough that it's almost all muscle memory. He can spend hours under a hood, the radio playing in the background, letting his hands solve one problem while his brain works through something else entirely.
Maybe it's a little pathetic spending his Saturday off striping down the engine of a ‘88 Ford, but he needs a mess he knows how to clean up to distract him from the tangled web he's found himself in.
The sound of footsteps on the concrete floor of his sanctuary pulls his attention away from the bolt he's been trying to loosen. Evan is standing by the fender of the car, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, denim this time. Unlike the last time he had been here, sprawled across the bench in the corner, reading the history of the car that had been on the lift then out over the music, he looks unsure, like his presence might be a mistake.
“Hey,” He offers, lamely.
“Hey,” Tommy echoes. “You can come in. Just watch your step.”
Evan smiles a little, probably remembering the first time he'd been in here and immediately tripped over the roller Tommy used to slide under his projects and bruised both his knees and his ego. He moves a little closer, up to the passenger door, leaving space between them. Tommy knows it's his way of offering an escape hatch, and he doesn't know if he feels grateful or disappointed.
“Can we talk?”
“I didn't assume you were here for an Automotive 101 lesson,” Tommy says, wiping his hands on one of rags he keeps laying around. It's dirty and only manages to spread more grease across his palms, but it gives his fingers something to do. Evan licks his lips anxiously.
“Sal said you left pretty quickly the other night.”
“Did he?” Tommy abandons the rag and turns back to the engine, wanting to look anywhere but at Evan now.
“Not his exact words, but I don't think those would be very constructive at the moment.”
Tommy doesn't answer. He puts his attention back on the bolt that's still holding fast, despite all the effort and WD-40 he's applied to it.
“He told me what happened before you left, too.”
Tommy sighs. He drops his wrench and turns to face Evan. He's closer now, almost in Tommy's space. He forgot how quiet Evan could be when he wanted to.
“That why you're here? To fight me for hooking up with your boyfriend?”
Evan's face does something complicated, a strange mixture of emotions Tommy can't really unravel. Humor? Hurt? Tommy's body tightens despite himself, bracing for whatever Evan is planning to throw at him. Evan shakes his head.
“He's not – It's –” He blows out an exasperated breath. “I'm not here to fight with you.”
“Then why are you here?”
The words come out a little harsher than Tommy meant them, but Evan doesn't flinch.
He's so close Tommy can reach out and pull him in. It wasn't so long ago that he had, one hand swiping the work table's surface clear, so he could spread him across it, the other reaching blindly for the button of the garage door, uncaring of whether it closed or not. He feels his fingers twitch at his side, aching to do just that, but he resists. He has to.
“I felt like I should explain,” Evan says. “Sal and I–”
“I really don't need to know,” Tommy cuts in. He doesn't need the details of how Evan and Sal got together. He doesn't want to hear Evan stumble his way through explaining their dalliances with Tommy had been a mistake, but they could all still be friends. Evan sighs.
“Tommy.” They're nearly chest to chest now, he can smell Evan's aftershave. “You drive me fucking insane.”
He swoops in, pressing his mouth against Tommy's. It feels like the moment should be charged, they should be tearing at each other's clothes, but it's almost tender, reminiscent of how Tommy kissed him for the first time. It's breathtaking. Evan must feel the same because he sighs softly when he pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead to Tommy's.
“We want you, you idiot,” He murmurs. “We both want you.”
Tommy struggles to comprehend what he's saying. It doesn't feel real, he'll wake up any second. Evan is still talking.
“Just come over tonight. Maybe it's crazy, but I know we can make this work. You just have to show up.”
His eyes are big and earnest and so full of hope. The last time Tommy had said no to that beautiful face, he'd broken both of their hearts. He didn't have it in himself to do it again.
“Okay,” He agrees softly. Evan smiles brightly and kisses him again, just as soft, but slower, deeper.
“I have to go,” He sighs against Tommy's lips. “Tonight, seven o'clock. Don't make us come looking for you.”
One last kiss, then Evan is slipping away, back out into the afternoon sunshine. Tommy watches him go, hoping he had just made another huge mistake.
It's Sexy Sal Saturday, so here's a little snippet from Jacket part 3!
Tommy watches as Sal grabs Evan's wrist and tugs him into his lap. Evan throws his long legs fluidly over Sal's thighs as he settles, slipping one arm around his shoulders as Sal's arm wraps around his waist. It's the same kind of practiced ease he and Evan had built together during their relationship and it makes the jealousy he's been fighting all night rear its ugly head and roar. Sal's lips brush across Evan's jaw as blue eyes lock with his, hot and heavy.
"Why are you still all the way over there?"
--*--
A shiver runs up Buck's spine as Sal presses a feather light kiss to the sensitive place right below his ear and one of his hand slips beneath the hem of his shirt. The rough drag of callouses across his hipbone have him shifting, grinding down against the bulge starting to grow against his ass.
"Why are you still all the way over there?"
Buck opens his eyes, he's not even sure when he closed them, and looks across the coffee table at Tommy. He's still in the arm chair he settled in after dinner, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer bottle, looking half turned on and half pissed. A muscle in his jaw twitches when their eyes meet. Buck smiles at him and reaches out a hand.
"C'mere Daddy."
The bottle clacks loudly against the wood of the table and Tommy stands. For half a second, Buck worries that something has gone horribly wrong and that he's going to walk out. But then Tommy's mouth is on his, two fingers under his chin, lifting Buck's face to the angle he wants. It's like coming home and Buck's chest aches with the rush of emotions it brings. Sal's hand runs up his spine and he groans softly against Tommy's lips, pressing back into the touch.
Tommy grabs his waist, pulling until Buck is straddling him, his knees digging into the cushions on either side of his hips. Buck breaks the kiss and lays his forehead against Tommy's, rubs a thumb over his cheek.
"This isn't a tug-of-war," He reminds him gently. "There's no competition."
Tommy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, rubbing small circles into Buck's hips with his thumbs, the nods. When his eyes open again, they're dark with want. He turns and grabs Sal by the back of the neck, pulling him in for rough kisses, their teeth clacking with the force of it. Buck can see their tongues battling against each other and it might be the hottest thing he's ever witnessed in his life. He moans and rolls his hips down against Tommy's, seeking friction. He thinks he could get off just watching them, he could be perfectly content just rubbing himself on Tommy's thigh if it meant they let him see. Sal pulls away first, gasping.
"Bedroom." His voice has taken that low tone that makes Buck want to drop his pants then and there. He wants to surge forward and devour him, or maybe be devoured. A sharp slap to his ass makes him yelp. "Now."
Buck scrambles to get up, nearly tripping over Tommy's feet in his hurry. Someone huffs out a laugh and he starts to pout, but a thumb presses against his lower lip instead.
"Always so eager," Tommy teases. Buck opens his lips and brushes his tongue over the pad of his thumb then sucks. Tommy groans. "Fuck, sweetheart."
"That's the plan." Buck grabs his hand and tugs him down the hall, his eyes flicking between Tommy's grin and Sal stalking after them, already pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
When they get into his bedroom, they're a mess of limbs trying to get each other undressed as quickly as possible. Fingers knock together and tangle over buttons and zippers, Buck gets trapped in his t-shirt because two sets of hands are trying to yank it off at different angles.
"Maybe we should keep him like this," Sal murmurs as he struggles in their grasps. "Make his guess what's coming to him."
And fuck if that idea drive him crazy. Buck moans, fighting harder against the fabric until one of them takes pity on him and pulls it the rest of the way over his head.
"Maybe next time," Tommy promises. Buck's heart seizes, then soars.
I was tagged for WIP Wednesday by @letsdosciencetoit @beanarie @sad-girl-hours23 and @leashybebes so here is my contribution. Picks up directly from here and goes under a cut
“You think Buck doesn't know exactly what I'm doing right now?” Sal asks, stroking them slowly. “You think he didn't come home to me after he spent the night at your place and show off all those pretty marks you left all over him?”
Tommy's head falls back against the stall door hard enough that it should probably hurt, but he can't feel anything besides the weight of Sal's body against his, the graze of teeth under his jaw that has him gasping. It's almost embarrassing, how close he is this quickly, but it's been months of nothing but his own hands and Sal has always known his body almost better than Tommy himself.
Sal's lips brush against his own in a whisper of a kiss.
“You think he hasn't screamed your name when he comes on my cock?”
Tommy is gone. Sal's free hand covers his mouth as he moans long and loud, spilling hard and hot between them. Sal strokes him through it until the touch is too much for Tommy to bear. He pushes Sal back enough to fall to his knees before him, uncaring of the dirty bathroom floor. He'd crawl across broken glass, needles, anything to get to what's in front of him right now.
“Shit, yeah,” Sal hisses as Tommy's lips wrap around him. He tangles his fingers in his hair and gives a sharp tug, pulling him down further until Tommy's nose is buried in the thick hair at the base.
God, this. The weight of Sal on his tongue, the stretch of his lips around him, the taste of himself on Sal's skin. The way any shred of dignity or decorum fell away at his touch. Tommy had missed this.
“Eyes on me, pretty boy,” Sal growls, tugging his hair again. Tommy moans and his gaze snaps up to lock with Sal's. “There you go.”
Tommy only gets a split second to prepare before Sal is fucking his throat in earnest.
For all the ways Sal knows how to set Tommy off like a virgin being touched for the first time, Tommy knows him, too. He spent countless hours learning every inch of the man above him, using his body as the road map to uncovering the desires he'd kept hidden from himself for so long. He let himself gag around him theatrically, even though they both knew the reflex had long since been trained away. He keeps eyes locked with Sal’s when he flicks his tongue devilishly over the head and glans before sinking back down fully, tugs his balls a little harder than strictly necessary. Sal curses and pulls his hair roughly as he comes down his throat and Tommy moans as he swallows.
“God damn,” Sal pants and Tommy smirks up at him before tucking him back into his pants and patting the front of his jeans appreciatively.
They exit the stall together, bumping shoulders in familiar companionship as they wash up and fix themselves in the mirrors.
“You go ahead,” Sal tells him with a teasing grin. “I'll be right behind you.”
It's a familiar phrase, one he's said in similar situations a million times, the double entendre never subtle. But this time it leaves a sour feeling puddling in Tommy's stomach. He paints a grin on his face and nods, slipping casually out of the bathroom and returning to their table, the picture of cool and collected.
Until Sal's phone buzzes, an incoming message from Buck lighting up his screen and Tommy is hit with a hundred different emotions all at once from all sides.
Anger. Pining. Guilt. Love. Jealousy. Desire. Betrayal. The music and voices around him are suddenly too much, his body feels ready to shake apart.
So he does what Tommy Kinard does best.
With the taste of a man he loves still fresh on his tongue, he runs.
E, 7.5k words. Evan Buckley/Sal Deluca, past Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Past Sal Deluca/Tommy Kinard
Sal had never really been one to believe in fate or destiny or divine intervention. Coincidence, maybe. Life had a funny way of jumping up and biting you in the ass when you least expected it, sure. But to think that everything was tied together by some invisible thread tugging you to just the right place at just the right time? That hardly seemed plausible. Sometimes things were just dumb luck.
And Sal felt pretty fucking lucky right now with Buck spread out in his bed, looking like a goddamn four-course meal just waiting to be devoured. He was nearly naked, the only thing left on him were his short little boxer briefs that didn't leave much to the imagination. A wet patch was already darkening the front and Sal licked his lips, palming himself over his jeans.
“Roll over,” He demanded, keeping his voice low. Buck complied eagerly, turning himself onto his stomach, canting his hips up and putting himself on display.
God, that ass was something out of a dream. Sal ran his hand over one cheek, then drew back to deliver a light smack against it. Buck jerked a little, letting out a surprised grunt. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes dark with want.
“Do it again.”
Sal chuckled a little, taking a moment to push his jeans the rest of the way to the floor before smacking his hand down on the other side, a little harder this time. Buck groaned, pushing his ass back toward him.
“You like that, huh?” Sal murmured, rubbing over the sting. Buck let out a soft laugh.
“Apparently.”
-*-
Sal knew this probably wasn't a good idea. He knew who Buck was, hell, everyone in the LAFD knew who Buck was at this point. There were plenty of stories about the antics he got up to early in his career, the near impossible saves he'd pulled off, the multiple brushes with death. But Sal knew more than all of them; he knew about Evan. Tommy's Evan, who hadn't even realized he was into men until recently. The one Tommy described as adorable and sweet, a little shy but eager. The guy who had taken up every free moment of his time until Tommy broke up with him out of the blue.
Normally, Sal wouldn't have gone near him, bound by that unwritten book of rules that friends were supposed to follow, no matter how pretty their exes were. Buck hadn't even been on his radar when he was scrolling through Grindr the other night, more out of boredom than an actual desire to hook up, and stumbled across his profile that said he was “looking to explore.” The kid probably didn't even realize how dangerous that phrase was on an app like that. The message Sal sent him told him just that, and that was where Sal was going to leave it. That is until Buck replied:
Why don't you show me? ;)
And, well, Sal never had been able to resist a pretty face.
It was supposed to be just drinks, that was what Sal told himself when he agreed to meet Buck at the restaurant. He was going to explain to him that there were a lot of creeps in LA and he should keep his guard up, make sure he knew what he was getting into before he went home with anyone. He was new to this, naive in a way, and there were a lot of guys ready to take advantage of that. They weren't all like Tommy.
Then Buckley had shown up, tall and built and ridiculously charming. Sal still wasn't quite sure how they had ended up in his backseat with Buck's face in his lap, sucking every last ounce of common sense out of his dick. After Sal had come down his throat, Buck had wiped his chin on the back of his hand and thrown Sal a wink.
“Thanks for the advice,” He’d said, his voice a little rough, throat raw from being used. Then he'd hopped out of Sal's truck and sauntered off into the night.
Sal was going to write it off as a one time thing, a lapse of judgment that ended in a good time. That was until he checked his phone halfway through a shift and found a Grindr notification waiting for him.
He was almost positive Buck was on shift, too. That was definitely the 118 locker room behind him in the mirror. It looked like he had just got out of the shower, hair still wet, droplets of water sliding down his chest and stomach. He was standing just close enough to the sink that all Sal could see was the beginnings of the dark thatch of curls leading down between his legs.
Got any more of that good advice for me?
There was an address in the following message. God damn, this kid really was asking for trouble.
Buck looked half surprised when he opened his door later that night to find Sal waiting on the front porch. The look morphed into an easy smile as he stepped to the side to let him in.
“I didn't think you'd show up,” He admitted, leading him further into the house to the living room. “You want a beer?”
“Sure,” Sal shrugged, glancing around. Buck's couch looked uncomfortable as hell, mismatched from the more plush arm chairs across from it. He opted to follow him into the kitchen. “Someone had to warn you about sending your address to strangers on the internet.”
“We're hardly strangers,” Buck teased, letting his eyes drift down to Sal's groin. He licked his lips briefly before pulling his eyes back up. “We have mutual friends. Chim, Hen, and I'm sure there's still a few people at the 118 that remember you.”
There was a lingering silence as Buck pulled two bottles from his fridge, using the edge of his counter to pop the tops before passing one to Sal. Neither acknowledged the name he left off that list.
Sal watched him as he put his beer to his lips, and, Christ, who taught this kid how to drink from a bottle? It was nearly obscene. Buck grinned at him, leaning back against the counter, letting his shirt ride up a little.
“You can come closer,” He offered. “I won't bite unless you ask me to.”
“Jesus, kid.” The beer bottle clacked loudly against the island as Sal abandoned it, untouched. He closed the short distance between him, settling his hands on Buck's hips and squeezing, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the exposed skin. “You know this is a bad idea.”
“Didn't stop you from showing up,” Buck murmured, fisting his hands in Sal's shirt. He tucked his head a little and looked at Sal from under his lashes. “Please.”
And suddenly Sal understood why Tommy had lost his god damn mind over this kid. One flash of those big blue eyes and any self control he had was out the window. He moved one hand up to curl around the back of Buck's neck and pulled him in, feeling his breath fan across his face before their lips crashed together. It was rough and messy, their teeth clacked together harshly, but Buck was moaning softly into his mouth, slipping his fingers into Sal's beltloops to tug him closer.
Buck pressed against Sal's chest, pushing him back towards the doorway, their legs tangling up as they stumbled together to the hallway.
“I'm not going anywhere near that couch,” Sal warned him, when they broke apart to breathe. Buck laughed against his lips.
“That's fair, I hate that thing.” He took Sal's hand and led him down the hall towards the bedroom. There was no preamble when he got him there. Buck pulled his shirt over his head and stepped into Sal's space, his fingers already tugging at the button of his jeans.
“Want me to blow you again? It will be better this time since I have a little elbow room.”
Sal doesn't know how it could possibly be any better and as much as he wanted to find out, he had a different plan for the night. He put his hands on Buck's shoulders and pushed, sending him sprawling backwards onto the mattress with another huff of laughter. Sal pulled his own shirt over his head and stepped between Buck's legs, running his hands up his thighs to the waistband of his sweatpants.
“My turn,” He murmured before tugging the pants off and tossing them aside. Buck was bare underneath, already hard and dripping. Sal smirked.
“So that's why they call you Firehose.”
Buck threw his head back and laughed. It was a nice sound, warm and full. “God, I haven't heard that in a long time.”
Sal hummed as he lowered himself to the floor, pressing biting kisses against the insides of his thighs, reveling in the soft sounds Buck was making above him. He teased at the head of his cock, cleaning the mess with his tongue before sinking down on the length of it. Buck moaned, drawing his legs up to box Sal's head and burying his hands in his hair.
“Fuck, that's good,” Buck panted, tugging at his hair a little, guiding him into a rhythm. “Fuck, Sal.”
Sal let his hands start to wander, one sliding up his chest to pinch at one of his nipples, the other rubbing circles lower and lower down his hip to the swell of his ass. He let his fingers slide down and was surprised to find him already wet and a little open. He pulled off his cock to meet his eyes, quirking an eyebrow at him. Buck shrugged, giving him a satisfied smirk.
“I was manifesting.”
Sal barked out a laugh. “You really are something, aren't you?”
He pressed his fingers forward, letting two slip inside the tight heat of Buck's body. Buck moaned softly as he worked him further open, returning his mouth to his cock as he did.
“Fuck, Sal, you gotta stop.” Buck tugged his hair, and Sal looked up, questioning. Buck flushed a little, looking slightly embarrassed. “It's, uh, it's been a while. I don't want it to be over yet.”
“I've heard you're good for a couple,” Sal teased, but pulled himself up and removed the rest of his clothes. “Where's your stuff?”
“Top drawer.”
Sal retrieved the condoms and lube before kneeling on the bed and looking down at Buck, taking in the sight of him as he readied himself. Tommy was fucking idiot, there was no other explanation for how he could possibly let this go. Miles of tattooed skin and long limbs thick with muscle. Soft brown curls and big, needy blue eyes. His tongue kept making appearances, sneaking out to wet his lips or taste Sal's skin. Buck was a walking wet dream.
“You gonna stare all night?” Buck asked, pushing himself up on his elbow and clasping a hand around the back of Sal's neck. The kiss was hot, filthy, and distracting enough for Buck to gain control and put Sal on his back. He hovered over him, a victorious grin lighting his face. Sal smiled back, settling his head on Buck's pillows and grabbing his waist.
“Alright, then, you got where you want me. Now what are you going to do about it?”
Buck reached back, stroking him a few times before getting himself into position and sinking down onto this cock.
“Oh, fuck, you're thick,” Buck groaned, rolling his hips in tight little circles as he adjusted. Slowly, he lifted himself up and sunk back down, building up a steady rhythm that had them both breathless.
“God damn, kid,” Sal grunted, tightening his grip on Buck's waist and fucking up into him. Buck was hot and tight around him, and it made him wonder how long it had been since he'd done this. There was no way that one night stand Tommy had told him about could have been the last time, not with Buck looking like that. But the way Buck was already shuddering, whimpering and whining like he was right on the edge… It only took a few well aimed thrusts and Buck was shooting across his chest, untouched, moaning his name loud and unabashed as he chased the feeling.
Sal wrapped an arm around him and flipped them, holding Buck down by his hips as he pounded into him like a man possessed. Maybe he was, bewitched by the way Buck clenched around him and dragged his blunt nails down his back, begging for more, for Sal to come inside him. He came with a groan, his arms giving out as he spilled into the condom, and collapsed on top of Buck, boneless and twitching. Buck didn't seem to mind taking all his weight, just ran his hands through Sal's hair and sighed contentedly until he had enough strength to roll onto his back.
“Fucking hell, kid,” is all Sal can say. Buck huffed out a laugh and rolled onto his side. He looked like he was glowing in lamp light, curls messy and damp with sweat, flushed down to his navel, a sleepy, sated smile on his face.
Yeah, Tommy was a fucking moron.
Sal wouldn't call what they were doing a thing. It was casual. Just for fun. Easy. They didn't specifically make time to see each other, but if their days off aligned and neither of them were busy, it was more likely than not that he and Buck were going to hook up. The sex was incredible. It was like someone had given them manuals to each other, exact details of where to touch and tease, of what words to say. But then again, maybe someone had.
The Tommy of it all hung between them, a specter, unseen and unheard but felt nonetheless. He would sneak up out of nowhere, an old t-shirt Buck tugged out of a drawer after a shower, a story Sal would start then stop telling half way through. Every time, there would be an awkward moment of silence where they couldn't quite meet each other's eyes until someone changed the subject. Because what they were doing wasn't about Tommy, but it sort of was, whether they admitted it or not.
Sal had never allowed himself to dwell on what was going on between him and Tommy, unwilling to complicate a good thing even in his own mind. Tommy had just been figuring himself out when they started, and Sal didn't mind being the one he experimented on; it didn't change anything about their friendship and it was a hell of a lot safer than sending Tommy out to the wolves in the clubs. But somewhere along the way, things had changed, no matter how hard he fought against it. There were twinges of jealousy when Tommy started dating someone new, a bitterness that only went away when Tommy was in his bed again. There was the possessive pride when he saw Tommy out in the jacket he kept pilfering from Sal's closet. It wasn't quite love, but it was more than friendship.
But they were still friends, which was how Sal ended up on Tommy's couch one Saturday night, watching the Lakers' game and talking shit. It had been a few months since they had made time for each other, Tommy had been burying himself in work and his latest project car while Sal had been burying himself in work and Buck. Not that he was going to tell Tommy about that, he liked the way his face was arranged, and even if Tommy did, too, that wouldn't stop him from losing his mind if he found out.
Tommy's phone pinged several times in rapid succession on the table in front of them, screen lighting with text notifications. He glanced at it briefly and rolled his eyes before swiping them all away.
“I made the mistake of agreeing to let Lucy set me up the other night,” He told Sal, flipping his phone over and leaning back against the cushions with his beer.
“Bad time?” Tommy shrugged, picking at the label with his thumb nail.
“It was fine, I guess. We went dancing, made out a little.” Tommy blew out a heavy breath. “I don't know. I mean, he was hot, funny, smart. It should have been great.”
“So, why wasn't it?” Sal had a feeling he already knew, and felt a small stab of guilt. Was he really going to have to listen to his best friend wax poetic about his ex while he had that ex's scratch marks down his back?
“I guess I'm just not ready yet.” The look on his face made Sal's stomach plummet. Sadness and regret carved deep lines into Tommy's features, making him look far older than he was for the briefest moment before he shook his head and cut his eyes at Sal, a little smirk playing on his lips.
“But apparently that's not a problem you're having.” He reached out, flicking at Sal's collar. “You've got a hickey the size of Australia. You're not dating another Twilight fan are you?”
“Ha ha.” Sal shoved his hand away, cursing inwardly. Buck had left the mark on him days ago, legs locked tight around Sal's lower back, moans muffled in the crook of his shoulder. He had almost forgotten it was there. It was low enough that his uniform covered it, but the v-neck he had put on before coming to Tommy's apparently left the majority of it exposed. Tommy tapped his calf with the toe of his socked foot.
“Come on, spill.”
Sal took a large swallow of his beer to keep his mouth busy for a few seconds. What the hell was he supposed to say? I've been screwing your ex for weeks and you know he bites when he comes? Somehow he felt like that wouldn't go over too well, especially considering what Tommy had just said.
“It's just some guy I met on Grindr. Nothing serious,” Sal said, choosing his words carefully. “Pretty boy, legs like a giraffe. Loud as hell, but I think he sends his neighbors cookies, so they don't make noise complaints.”
“Deadly combination for you,” Tommy teased, his face scrunching up in a grin. Sal nodded and took another long drink, his throat suddenly very dry.
“You have no idea.”
Do you have a shift tomorrow?
Sal looked at the text, a war waging in his head. He had been able to rationalize it himself before, Tommy had been the one to end things between them, more than once, and Buck had been looking for someone new, even if it was pretty obvious that the kid hadn't fully moved on. But finding out that Tommy still had feelings for him too had put him in a minefield that Sal wasn't sure how to maneuver.
It should have been simple, it wasn't like there was any kind of serious commitment between them. He should be able to just tell Buck that they had had their fun, but it was for the best if they put an end to it. Maybe even encourage him to take a chance and give Tommy a call. The problem was, he liked Buck. The sex was great, sure, but it was more than that. Buck was fascinating, inquisitive, eager; a warm, gentle presence in a hard, cruel place. Sal wasn't sure he could give that up, even if it wasn't really his in the first place.
He had been trying to put some distance between them while he figured out how to deal with the situation. He had adjusted his schedule so their days off didn't line up as often, and when they did he made sure he was busy catching up on things he'd let fall to the wayside. It had been a couple of weeks now, though, and his excuses were getting flimsy; his house had never been so clean, his truck had never run so smoothly, no one at the station wanted to trade another shift.
Buck's message stared up at him, tempting him to say fuck it and let the pieces fall where they would; He was already going to hell, he may as well enjoy the trip. He was about to type his reply when a knock on his door pulled him from his spiral.
Buck stood on the porch and Sal could tell immediately that something was quite right. He looked on edge, his hair was wrecked like he had been running his hands through it, and the smile he put on when the door opened didn't match the storm Sal saw brewing in his eyes.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Buck said, as he walked inside, pressing in close as Sal shut the door behind him. “Figured I stop by.”
“You live across town,” Sal pointed out, letting Buck back him against the wall, nimble fingers already tugging at his belt. “Why were you in my neighborhood?”
“Seeing if you were home.”
Buck dropped to his knees with no preamble, tugging Sal's lounge pants and underwear down with him, and Sal didn't know where he'd found the will to go two weeks without this. Buck nuzzled against his half-hard cock like he was greeting an old friend, teasing with his lips and tongue until he was at full mast, then taking the whole length of him, gagging himself on it.
“Fucking Christ,” Sal nearly shouted, one hand fisting in Buck's hair, while the other had a brusing grip on his shoulder. Buck looked up at him, his eyes wet and gleaming with wicked delight. “Desperate, aren't you?”
“Need you to fuck me,” Buck panted, leaning against Sal's thigh. “Need all the noise to stop.”
Sal could do that, it wouldn't be the first time he'd fucked Buck senseless. He grabbed Buck's shoulder, coaxing him up off the floor and into a heated kiss. Buck whined softly against his lips, shoulders going lax as he let Sal take control. Sal kicked his legs free of the pants Buck had left around his ankles and guided him backwards by his hips in the direction of the bedroom. They stumbled, legs tangling as they pulled at each other's remaining clothes, and Buck fell back against a wall, dragging Sal heavily against him. The rough friction of the denim still covering Buck's cock as it rubbed against his bare one sent a delicious shiver down Sal's spine.
“Goddamn, Buck,” Sal groaned as the younger rutted against him, already biting at his shoulder through his t-shirt.
“No,” Buck gasped, dropping his head against Sal's chest. “Not Buck. I can't be Buck right now.”
“What?” Sal took a half step back and Buck took advantage of the space to yank his own shirt over his head.
“I just…I just need to not be him for a little while. Evan. Call me Evan.”
Sal froze, clasping his hands around Buck's wrists to still his movements where he was still trying to undress himself. Buck huffed and pressed into Sal's space, trailing hot, wet kisses across his neck. Sal willed himself to step back and take stock of the situation. Buck had shown up here unannounced with a storm raging in his eyes, begging Sal on his knees to make him forget whatever was on his mind. Now he was asking him to call him by the name Tommy had made sacred.
“Maybe we should slow down a little.”
“I don't want to slow down. I need this. I need you.” Buck's eyes were pleading, more vulnerable than Sal had ever seen them. It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall into them and give him everything he was asking for. To take advantage. Sal took a step back, keeping Buck at arms length.
“You need to breathe for a second. Sex isn't going to fix whatever has you this wound up.”
“Don't know unless we try,” Buck insisted, dropping his fingers to his fly and starting to work it open.
“Would you stop!” Sal snapped, grabbing his wrists again. “I'm not going to fuck you when you're like this.”
“Like what?” Buck's voice went icy. “I thought you liked me desperate and begging for it.”
“Not when you're using me as a consolation prize.”
Sal could see the walls slam back into place, leaving Buck's expression flat and empty. He looked like a completely different person, a wax figure void of all that restless energy and persistent joy. An angry, empty shell.
“I am so sick of everyone thinking they know what I want. I thought this was different. I thought you were different.” He wrenched his arms free of Sal's grip and bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor. “Go fuck yourself, Sal.”
Sal watched him yank it back over his head carelessly and storm to the door, trying and failing to come up with something to say. Buck didn't look back before the door is slammed between them, leaving Sal half naked, half hard, and fully confused. How had this gone downhill that quickly?
The sound of Buck's truck door slamming outside spurred him back into motion. Sal snatched his sweats off the floor and tugged them on before running out the door, yelling Buck's name. He needed to stop him, or at least slow him down. But he was met with the glow of tail lights as Buck peeled away.
Sal stood rooted to the spot for a long moment, letting the damp grass soak the cuffs of his pants and ignoring the chill.
Fuck this. He ran back inside and grabbed his keys, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers before getting into his SUV and following Buck.
He had been too afraid to risk it before, with Tommy. He had ignored every feeling. Side stepped every chance. He wasn't going to let this slip between his fingers, too.
Buck's house was still dark when he pulled up to the curb, but his truck was sitting out front, engine clicking as it cooled. Sal took a breath and knocked, steeling himself for whatever was about to happen. Buck might slam the door in his face, he might take a swing at him, hell, he might not even answer at all. But Sal wasn't leaving. He would sleep out here if he had too. The only way he was leaving this porch was if Athena Grant herself put the cuffs on him, and even then she'd have to use those impressive arms of hers to drag him away. Then he'd spend the whole ride to the station trying to get her on his side, convince her to get Buck to talk to him, because–
The door swung open and Buck sighed. “What are you doing here?”
He didn't look annoyed that Sal was there, he just looked tired. Like a man who had been on the losing side of a war for years and years. It was a wild juxtaposition from the Buck he was used to, the one he had heard so much about, the one Tommy described. Sal was struck with the realization that that Buck was a creation, a persona that Buck had stripped off in front of him earlier and he thought Sal had rejected the man that was left underneath.
“There's a conversation we need to have,” Sal said, quietly. Buck sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face.
“I'm really not in the mood for–”
“Just let me say this, then if you want to throw me out, I'll even let you kick me in the ass on the way out the door.”
Buck stared at him for a long moment then nodded and stepped back, leading Sal into his living room. It felt like a weird parody of the first night he was here. They sat awkwardly for a moment, Sal watching Buck's fingers twist in his lap, neither one of them seeming to know how to start.
“I'm sorry I lashed out at you,” Buck finally said. “I…it's not an excuse, but it's been a really bad year. Being with you, it made things feel better and maybe it was selfish of me to use you for comfort like that. But then you started avoiding me out of nowhere and I–I get it. I can be clingy and annoying and too much. I don't blame you for wanting some space, especially since we never really talked about–”
“It wasn't that,” Sal cut him off, before he could get any more self-deprecating. Buck shouldn't have been apologizing in the first place, and it made him wonder what this man had been through in his life, that he felt the need to blame himself for Sal's fuck up.“I wasn't avoiding you because of something you did.”
“Then why?”
“Tommy.”
“Oh.” Buck looked down at his hands again for a moment, his teeth worrying his lower lip. “Sal–”
“I need to tell you this, before we say anything else. If I don't say it now, I never will, and that's not fair to any of us.” He stood up, nervous energy propelling him around the room. Buck watched, silent, waiting. “You know Tommy and I are pretty close. We try to hang out when we can. We talk. I was over at his place a couple of weeks ago and he told me – well, he didn't really say it out loud, but…He's not over you. He regrets ending things with you. He'll never do anything about it because he's a coward and he doesn't think he deserves another chance, but he wants you back. It made me feel…skeevy, to sleep with you again, knowing that and not telling you. But I didn't want to tell you. Partly because Tommy's an idiot and needs to tell you himself, but mostly because…”
Sal stopped and looked at Buck. He was still sitting on the couch, brow furrowed as he processed the information. He could almost hear Buck's brain whirring, putting the pieces together. He forced himself to take a breath, to put it all out there before he became the very coward he accused Tommy of being.
“Because I like you. The sex is awesome, but I also just like being around you. And the selfish, vindictive part of me wanted to keep that, my friendship with Tommy be damned. I wanted to keep fucking you until you forgot anyone else existed. He gave you up more than once, so why should he get another chance when I have you now. Except, I don't have you, not really. He was always there, whether we admitted it or not. I know you still have feelings for him. So I couldn't see you again, not until I figured out how to handle it, how to tell you. How to lose you.”
Buck opened his mouth and Sal held a hand up to stop him.
“Tommy and I, we had something. It was never a relationship, but it was never just sex, either. We were both too stubborn, or maybe too afraid, to let it be anything. I never told him it could have been more if he wanted it to be. I never fought for him. I lost my chance, but you don't have to. You can be braver than either of us ever were.”
There. He had put it all out on the table. He didn't think he had ever talked so much at once about something that actually mattered and he felt laid bare. There was a reason he kept his mouth shut unless he had a sarcastic comment, to avoid this, the look in Buck's eyes as he took it all in, weighed it all.
“Tommy…” Buck started, paused. Licked his lips. “Tommy is important to me. What we had, it changed me on a level I thought would never happen again. It was the first time in so long that I felt complete. You're right, those feelings never went away. I don't think they ever will.”
Sal nodded. So this was it. Like a shooting star, they started burning hot, and they were going to fade just as quickly and quietly, like they had never been there at all.
“But he was part of what broke me, too. It's like when he left the cracks started showing again, and they got bigger and bigger with every hit I took. He was there when I shattered and he left the pieces laying there. Maybe it was because he was a coward, maybe it was because he was ashamed, maybe he wanted to be there, but I had to put myself back together alone. And I didn't have anything to fill in the gaps left behind.” He looked up at Sal, his eyes shining. “Until you.”
He got up and crossed the space between them, close enough to touch, but leaving some distance. Still giving Sal an out.
“You do have me,” Buck told him, his voice quiet but sure. “And I know it's messy and complicated and there's obviously a lot we have to talk about but–”
Sal grabbed him and pulled him in, holding his face in both hands. Even though they had kissed many times before, it felt like a first kiss, gentle and slow like they had never been before. It felt like a new beginning.
Buck made a soft sound, low in his throat. Sal pulled back to look at his face and brushed his thumbs over his cheekbones. Buck's eyes were closed and he waited, indulging him with soft touches until he opened them again.
“Stay,” Buck whispered, wrapping his hands around the lapels of Sal's jacket, like he would physically hold him there if Sal tried to walk out right now.
“No where else I'd rather be,” Sal murmured.
In the bedroom they stripped down to their underwear for no other purpose than to be skin on skin. Buck was a warm, solid weight on his chest, pressing in as close as possible, like he wanted to burrow inside and make a home between Sal's ribs. Not that he minded. Sal was already willing to give him the knife to carve his way in if he asked for it.
It didn't take long before Buck was snoring softly against his collarbone. Sal traced his fingers over the knobs of his spine, watching as his face smoothed over, making him look younger, softer. That, combined with the distress and exhaustion he had seen and Buck's confession of loneliness had Sal wondering what the hell kind of operation Han was running over at the 118. Maybe it was time for a check in, captain to captain. He knew how heavy it was to carry that helmet, even without the added weight of grief. In time, he would ask all the right questions, pick apart the issues with the same careful precision he used to deconstruct a scene for an incident report.
That was a problem for later, though. He couldn't dwell on that when Buck was wrapping around him like a vine, his warmth pulling Sal down into sleep after him.
Sal stretched out on the bed, groaning a little as knees popped, stiff from a long shift. He heard Buck laugh from the bathroom and rolled his eyes, knowing the old man comments would be coming full force tonight. There was nothing Buck loved more than to tease him about their age difference then have Sal hold him down and remind him just how much experience those ten extra years had given him.
It had been nearly two months since they had confessed their deepening feelings for each other and things were going…suspiciously well. They were still dealing with conflicting shifts and Buck was putting in a lot of time making sure the Grant kid was acclimating to being a real member of the 118, but they were sneaking in as much time together as they could. They knew where each other's spare keys were hidden and Sal had come home more than once to find Buck stretched out in his bed, sleeping off a long shift, long limbs taking up nearly all the mattress space as he drooled into Sal's pillow. Sal surprised Buck with homemade dinners at his house on the days Buck went too quiet, the silence an indicator that something, or someone, had made him feel the need to shrink, to be less.
They could talk for hours about the calls they had been on, growing up in the northeast with older sisters that treated them like living baby dolls, arguing over whether to watch a movie or documentary. It was simple, there were no labels, no outside influences or opinions, just the two of them figuring it out together, being what the other needed.
“I'm, uh, I'm having dinner at my sister's tonight," Buck told Sal one evening when he called after work to see if Buck was free. "You can come with me, if you want.”
“And have Tommy show up at my door ready to rip me to shreds because Howie can't keep a secret? I think I'll pass.”
“I don't know,” Buck mused. Sal could picture the smirk on his face, his hand tucked under his chin like he was daydreaming. “Might be kinda hot to watch you two fight over me.”
And, as strange as it was, that was all it took to break the remainder of the barrier around the Tommy of it all. The important place he held in both of their lives no longer felt like a cold shadow over their relationship they needed to avoid, but more like a swatch of sunshine that they could share. Sal didn't shy away from telling a story just because he had been there. It didn't make Buck feel awkward to point out places that Tommy had taken him or to talk about the things they had done together. The heavy silence that used to fall between them when Sal recognized that something Buck was wearing had not, in fact, been picked up on a thrifting trip but left behind after a sleepover had been replaced with warm teasing about Buck plundering his ex's wardrobe.
“Now, I know he's been looking for that one,” Sal said one night when Buck came out of the bathroom rubbing a towel over his head, a light gray shirt with a Cobra logo stretched across his broad chest.
It had been one of Tommy's favorite shirts to wear when he was knocking around his house. It was well-loved, the fabric made soft and thin from repeated washings. Sal had vivid memories of admiring the way the sleeves had hugged Tommy's biceps just right, of sliding his hands under it to feel the shifting muscles of the back underneath.
“Tell him to come and get it then,” Buck snarked back, tossing his towel in the laundry basket. The joke was offhanded, one they had made before, but something about it tonight, combined with the images the shirt conjured in his mind, lit a new fire in Sal's belly.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Sal grabbed Buck by the wrist and tugged him onto his lap. “For Tommy to come over here and take back what's his?”
“Sal–” Buck's surprise turned to a moan as Sal rolled his hips up, grinding his hard cock against Buck rapidly filling one.
“You miss the way he fucked you, baby? Been thinking about him while I'm inside you?”
“N-no,” Buck gasped, staring at Sal with wide eyes. Sal hummed, slipping his fingers under the waistband of the shorts Buck was wearing.
“Maybe you should,” He murmured against Buck's neck, biting softly at the sensitive spot below his ear. His fingertips brushed over his hole and he wasn't surprised to find him already wet and a little loose. “Dirty boy.”
Buck whined softly, pushing himself back against Sal's hand. Sal chuckled darkly and pulled away, moving his hands under Buck's thighs and flipping them over so he could loom over him.
“Do you want this?” He asked, tracing his fingers over the logo stretched over Buck's chest. They hadn't talked about it and he didn't know for sure if it was the kind of game Buck wanted to play. He needed to be sure Buck knew he could say no, that they could stop and forget he'd ever started this. Buck looked up at him for a moment, studying his face, then fisted his hand in Sal's t-shirt to pull his mouth down to his. Sal pulled away and tugged Buck's shorts down his legs then stripped his own clothes off. Buck was starting to pull the shirt up and Sal grabbed his wrists, pinning them up by his head.
“I bet he treated you real nice,” Sal murmured, kissing his way down Buck's neck. Buck shivered under him and he paused for a moment to suck a red spot into the skin at the collar of his shirt. He slid his hands up Buck's thighs, stopping just short of where he wanted him “Tell me.”
“H-He was. Always took his time,” Buck breathed, arching his hips up, seeking friction. “He liked to tease me. He liked it when I begged, told me I sounded so pretty whimpering for it.”
“He was right,” Sal nodded. He let his fingers inch forward, brushing the whisper of a touch over his balls. “Keep going.”
“Some days he'd eat me out for hours – Fuck, Sal,” His voice broke off as Sal pushed two fingers into him and he rolled his hips down against them. “He made me come til I cried once, then he fucked me until I couldn't talk.”
“Sounds right. He was always generous like that.” Sal curled his fingers and Buck cried out, digging his nails into his shoulders.
“Fuck me,” Buck tugged him up, kissing him again. He spread his legs wider, wrapping one around Sal's waist to pull him closer. “Want you in me.”
“Impatient,” Sal muttered, removing his fingers and lining himself to push inside. Buck threw his head back, eyes closed. “Say it.”
“Tommy,” He gasped, arching up against him, wanting him deeper. “Fuck, yes, Sal. Please.”
“You like that, baby?” Sal gripped the thigh that wasn't already wrapped around him and hoisted it up, changing the angle in a way that had Buck moaning so loud he was glad he didn't have close neighbors. “Imagining him while I'm fucking you?”
“Not – oh, fuck, right there! Not imagining him. Just wishing he was here. Want him to watch. Want him to be with us.”
“Yeah?” Sal moaned, picturing Tommy sitting across the room, enjoying the show, telling him what to do. His thrusts picked up speed and he knew this was going to be over embarrassingly fast. He wrapped his hand around Buck's cock, already slick from the amount he had leaking between them. “One cock isn't enough for a needy little slut like you? You need us both to take care of you?”
Buck nodded, biting his lip. He rocked his hips down against Sal's in tight circles, searching.
“Want to belong to both of you. I need – oh, shit, fuck yes, yes!”
Sal felt him clench around him, tight and hot, almost too much. He was so close and Sal knew just how to push him over the edge.
“Come on,” He panted, moving faster, harder. “Be a good boy and come for us, Evan.”
Buck's body went rigid under him as he cried out, a nearly unintelligible combination of both their names spilling from his lips as he shook apart. Sal's hands on his thighs tightened into a death grip as he followed, moaning his own nonsense words into Buck's neck as he collapsed on top of him.
Sal rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. “Holy shit.”
Buck laughed a little and curled into his side, feathering kisses across his shoulder. Sal put his arm around him, tugging him against his chest and he sighed contentedly, snuggling in. They laid in silence for a while, catching their breath and coming back down to earth.
“Talk to me, kid,” Sal murmured, squeezing Buck's shoulder, checking in.
“That was hot as hell. Definitely in our top five,” Buck pushed up a little to grin at him, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.
“But?” Buck sighed softly.
“Nothing is missing here. What we have…I haven't been this happy in a long time. But doing this, thinking about him with us…”
“I know,” Sal agreed.
"We're a pair, aren't we," Buck murmured, his fingers drifting idly back and forth across Sal's stomach. "I want you, you want me. We both want Tommy. Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”
Sal glanced toward his closet. "What if I told you I may have a solution for that?”
Buck pushed himself up on his forearm as Sal got up and walked across the room. He dug through the closet for a moment before turning around with a tan jacket in his hands and wicked glint in his eyes.
I've been tagged recently by @leashybebes @letsdosciencetoit and @thecarrott , so here's a little something
“What are you doing here?”
He didn't look annoyed that Sal was there, he just looked tired. Like a man who had been on the losing side of a war for years and years. It was a wild juxtaposition from the Buck he was used to, the one he had heard so much about, the one Tommy described. Sal was struck with the realization that that Buck was a creation, a persona that Buck had stripped off in front of him earlier and he thought Sal had rejected the man that was left underneath.
“There's a conversation we need to have,” Sal said quietly. Buck sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face.
“I'm really not in the mood for–”
“Just let me say this, then if you want to throw me out, I'll even let you kick me in the ass on the way out the door.”
"Why didn't you tell us?" Hen asks, studying the papers in front of them again. Buck shrugs.
"I figured if I failed, no one would ever need to know I tried," He said, trying to keep his tone casual. "The results didn't come back until after Bobby..." He stopped, his mouth twitching slightly. "Then it really just didn't feel like it mattered anymore."
🧥
Tommy watches as Sal grabs Evan's wrist and tugs him into his lap. Evan throws his long legs fluidly over Sal's thighs as he settles, slipping one arm around his shoulders as Sal's arm wraps around his waist. It's the same kind of practiced ease he and Evan had built together during their relationship and it makes the jealousy he's been fighting all night rear its ugly head and roar. Sal's lips brush across Evan's jaw as blue eyes lock with his, hot and heavy.
Sal looked at the text, a war waging in his head. He had been able to rationalize it himself before, Tommy had been the one to end things between them, more than once, and Buck had been looking for someone new, even if it was pretty obvious that the kid hadn't fully moved on. But finding out that Tommy still had feelings for him too had put him in a minefield that Sal wasn't sure how to maneuver.
It should have been simple, it wasn't like there was any kind of serious commitment between them. He should be able to just tell Buck that they had had their fun, but it was for the best if they put an end to it. Maybe even encourage him to take a chance and give Tommy a call. The problem was that he liked Buck. The sex was great, sure, but it was more than that. Buck was fascinating, inquisitive, eager; a warm, gentle presence in a hard, cruel place. Sal wasn't sure he could give that up, even if it wasn't really his in the first place.
He had been trying to put some distance between them while he figured out how to deal with the situation. He had adjusted his schedule so their days off didn't line up as often, and when they did, he made sure he was busy catching up on things he'd let fall to the wayside. It had been a couple of weeks now, though, and his excuses were getting flimsy; his house had never been so clean, his truck had never run so smoothly, no one at the station wanted to trade another shift.
Buck's message stared up at him, tempting him to say fuck it and let the pieces fall where they would; He was already going to hell, he may as well enjoy the trip. He was about to type his reply when a knock on his door pulled him from his spiral.
Buck stood on the porch and Sal could tell immediately that something was quite right. He looked on edge, his hair was wrecked like he had been running his hands through it, and the smile he put on when the door opened didn't match the storm Sal saw brewing in his eyes.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Buck said, as he walked inside, pressing in close as Sal shut the door behind him. “Figured I stop by.”
“You live across town,” Sal pointed out, letting Buck back him against the wall, nimble fingers already tugging at his belt. “Why were you in my neighborhood?”
“Seeing if you were home.”
Buck dropped to his knees with no preamble, tugging Sal's lounge pants and underwear down with him, and Sal didn't know where he'd found the will to go two weeks without this. Buck nuzzled against his half-hard cock like he was greeting an old friend, teasing with his lips and tongue until he was at full mast, then taking the whole length of him, gagging himself on it.
“Fucking Christ,” Sal nearly shouted, one hand fisting in Buck's hair, while the other had a brusing grip on his shoulder. Buck looked up at him, his eyes wet and gleaming with wicked delight. “Desperate, aren't you?”
“Need you to fuck me,” Buck panted, leaning against Sal's thigh. “Need all the noise to stop.”
Tommy feels off-kilter as he follows him through the entryway. This is Evan's house, but there's evidence of Sal throughout. His jacket and bag by the door beside Evan's, a book left on the table in the living room. A lighter laying forgotten on a shelf by the kitchen. Little pieces of himself left behind, cluttering up Evan's home in a way Tommy never let himself believe he was allowed to do.
😢
"It took me so long to find a place where I thought I might actually belong. People I thought really wanted me. But they don't want me, not really. They want some version of Buck that just isn't here anymore. Bobby...Bobby saw me, you know? He saw through every wall I put up, every mask I put on. He knew how to fix me. He knew how to put me in my place without tearing down. And now that he's gone...it feels like I am, too."
